


Once and Maybe Future

by YellowMagicalGirl



Series: Once and Potentially Future [2]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Amnesia, Arcadia Oaks Academy, Archie does not know anyone's Arthurian identities, Archie is King Arthur, Archiethur Theory, Arthurian, Bastardized Arthuriana, Claire is now a cameo character, Dark Magic, Don't copy to another site, Douxie does not know the Pink Haired Girl is the Lady of the Lake, Douxie is Mordred, Dream Sequence, Everything is a headcanon, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Headcanon, Identity Porn, Implied/Referenced Math, Implied/referenced illness, Is it really death? IDK and thus "choose not to tag", LGBT headcanons, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, Magic, Magic-Users, Mild Injuries, Names, Nimue | The Lady of the Lake does not know Douxie & Archie's Arthurian identities, Non-Linear Narrative, Patricide (sort of), Pink Haired Girl is Nimue | The Lady of the Lake, Polyamory, Possession, Pumpkins, Reincarnation, Sick Animals, Sick Character, Someone else can write a fic with all the incest and adultery, Suicidal Thoughts, Swordplay, They are basically wikipedia-ing themselves, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Violence, Well one chapter is, Wizards, Worldbuilding, Zoe | Pink Haired Girl is called Nimue in this fic because I didn't know her name yet, and being a teenager with bills to pay, my characters have enough problems with amnesia identity problems magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2020-12-21 11:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowMagicalGirl/pseuds/YellowMagicalGirl
Summary: A oneshot collection based on my old headcanons for the upcoming seriesTales of Arcadia: Wizards; said headcanons were originally formed prior to the poster leak.Does not require knowledge of other fics in series.





	1. Battle of Camlann

**Author's Note:**

> So, for the record, I have a very loose grasp on the Arthurian mythos in general, and I am very much picking and choosing for my _Wizards_ headcanons, which are:
> 
>   * [Archiethur Theory](https://yellowmagicalgirl.tumblr.com/post/187355213570/douxies-father-is-a-cat)
>   * [Nimue Reincarnation](https://yellowmagicalgirl.tumblr.com/post/187782353060/image-description-that-one-pink-haired-girl-who)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gueith camlann in qua Arthur et Medraut corruerunt: The strife of Camlann in which Arthur and Mordred perished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you know that whole "is it _really_ death" tag I have? This is the chapter that it refers to.
> 
> Huge thanks to Eclipsia for beta-reading for me.

Camlann was usually quite beautiful this time of year. It would probably have _been_ beautiful, if not for the war with the Gumm-Gumms. Mordred wasn’t sure if he wanted to be here, but according to his father and Merlin he needed to be here. It made sense; he was the crown prince. One day, he would rule Camelot, and he would have to protect it in times of war. With how long trolls lived, this war may go on into the time of Mordred’s own children.

Of course, that didn’t mean Mordred sat on many of the war councils. He mostly watched the knights spar and helped with the pages and squires. It was nice, being able to interact with boys his age, ones too young to know that none of the older knights trusted him. Most of the time Mordred was busy with his lessons in statecraft and especially magic. When he was much younger, he had learned some spells from his Aunt Morgan. Now, he only learned from Merlin.

Mordred pulled out the necklace Aunt Morgana had given him a month ago from under his tunic. It was gold, with a diamond-shaped green gem in the center and trollish runes around the edge.

She had been wearing gloves, which was odd since that could inhibit her ability to cast spells. She had said that Merlin and his father had had an argument with her, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t still help her favorite nephew. He had said he was her only nephew, and she had laughed and tousled his hair. She had then given him the necklace, telling him it would help increase his magic, but not to tell his parents or Merlin.

He had secretly worn it every day, and some of his magic had improved. In the past month he had felt more tired, but everyone did. There was a war going on, after all. Besides, it was cold.

“Mordred, are you busy?” his father asked, walking towards him.

“No, Father!” And it was true, he had finished watering the horses. He was about to go try and befriend the nearby black tomcat that kept the mice out of the horses’ feed, but

“Then are you up for a spar?” He did not unsheathe Excalibur, but rather wielded it sheathed. Mordred pulled out his wooden practice sword and bent his knees for balance like he had been told to in the past. He was small, and he had to use that to his advantage.

He advanced, and immediately went for his father’s knees. Unfortunately, Father was expecting it and knocked away

“Now is that very honorable?” he asked, but Father’s voice was jovial.

“No…” Mordred was proud that he didn’t start giggling.

“Then maybe you should try a different tactic?” Mordred once again raised his practice sword and _lunged._

Excalibur stuck against the amulet Aunt Morgana had given him. It glowed, hot, and Mordred staggered back before collapsing to his knees.

Mordred saw the back of his own head. He saw his father rush over to him.

What was going on? He felt cold and numb. Mordred wrapped his arms around him

“Mordred, are you alright?” his father asked. “I didn’t mean to hit you so hard.”

Mordred wasn’t alright. His chest didn’t hurt from the blow, but he was _scared._ What was happening to him?

“Oh, really, brother?” Mordred looked around to see where his Aunt Morgana’s voice came from. He didn’t see her anywhere.

His father gasped and backed away slightly. Mordred walked around his body to see what was wrong.

Mordred saw that the whites of his eyes had turned black, and he bore no pupils. The gold of them glowed.

“You didn’t want to hurt me?” Aunt Morgana’s voice sprang from Mordred’s mouth. Mordred looked down at his own hands; he was see-through, like a ghost.

“You have a funny way of showing it, siding with Merlin instead of me,” Aunt Morgana said.

“Morgana, get out of my _son._ He is a child and innocent; I knew you were a coward but _this?_ Why not face me from _your own_ body?”

Aunt Morgana rolled her eyes. “He helped with the amulet, he has enough of my blood on his hands.”

She stood up and transformed Mordred’s wooden practice sword into one of gold and iron, with an emerald in the pommel. She then rushed at Father. Mordred ran to her and tried to tug on her arm. He passed through his own body, but he almost took hold of something gold and glowing. His aunt moved far too fast.

“And how much blood is on _your_ hands?” Father did not unsheathe Excalibur, he fought like it was a practice spar. “With what madness you’ve created, siding with Orglak? Making your hand into an amulet is nothing compared to what you’ve done.”

Wait, _what?_ Aunt Morgana had sided with the Gumm-Gumms? But the Gumm-Gumms were _bad,_ they wanted to eat people!

Mordred frowned as much as his spectral body would allow it. Why had no one _told_ him? They had kept it a better secret than the fact that his destiny was to kill his father. Mordred did not _want_ to kill his father, he _loved_ his father. He didn’t want his destiny.

Then again, possession was also _bad,_ maybe not as bad as the Gumm-Gumm army, but it was dark magic. That was what was happening to him. Aunt Morgana was possessing his body, trying to fulfill his fate for him.

Aunt Morgana jumped up, bursts of gold light streaming from Mordred’s body. Her sword struck Father down. She landed delicately, smirking and triumphant.

Mordred shoved her out of his body and fell to his knees. He yanked the necklace off, tossing it aside.

He scooted to his father’s body. “Father? I’m not possessed by Aunt Morgana anymore.”

His father did not open his eyes. Mordred placed two fingers to the side of his father’s neck. The pulse was faint and fading rapidly.

No, no, _no!_ This was all Mordred’s fault, if he hadn’t taken Aunt Morgana’s necklace, he wouldn’t have been used by her.

He would _not_ fulfill his destiny.

Mordred placed one hand on his father’s chest, and he stretched out his other arm.

A cat gave a shocked yowl.

Mordred felt cracks grow on his face; saw them grow on his hands. He _knew_ that this was bad and that he should stop. This was not any sort of healing that he knew of, this was dark magic. Dark magic was _bad _but letting Father die was _worse._

Mordred glanced at the cat that he had wanted to befriend. “I’m sorry,” he said before placing his now-dead father’s soul into the cat.

A white symbol appeared in the cat’s fur. It rose onto two legs before collapsing.

“Sire?” Sir Bedviere called. Mordred looked up, and saw the knight reaching for his sword.

This looked _very_ bad. The deuce of a son finally went and used dark magic to kill his father. No one would believe Mordred, not without proof.

Mordred scooped up the cat containing his father’s soul and _ran._ He just needed to protect his father until he awoke; then Father could tell everyone that Aunt Morgana had tried to kill him and that Mordred had tried to _help_ even though he used dark magic. Until then, however, he couldn’t go home.

He never returned to Camelot.


	2. Pumpkins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you seriously injure yourself carving a pumpkin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if there is a way to gift individual chapters, but this chapter was written as a tumblr request to [im_the_king_of_the_ocean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_the_king_of_the_ocean/pseuds/im_the_king_of_the_ocean).
> 
> [Halloween Prompts](https://yellowmagicalgirl.tumblr.com/post/188431273935/halloween-prompts)

Carving musical notes and band logos into pumpkins had sounded like such a good idea. It would bring in visitors to the music shop. Nimue had forgotten just how _slimy_ pumpkins were, though, and she was struggling to get a good grip on this one.

Nimue yelped and pulled her hand away from the pumpkin and the serrated edge of the knife that had pierced her skin. She tried to suck the blood away from the wound.

“You okay?” Douxie asked, looking around. “I was about to go to Benoit’s but heard your cry.”

He glanced at the pumpkin and then finally at her. “Did you seriously injure yourself carving a pumpkin?”

Nimue pulled her hand from her mouth. “Not _that_ seriously.” He took his hand in her own and studied the wound. There was a slightly scared intensity to his gaze.

“That was a serrated edge.”

“Yeah, that’s how pumpkin-carving blades are.”

“It’s more dangerous.”

She knew that. She had smithed serrated blades and regretted it, in a past life.

“Yep, and yet they sell these for kids. Hey, would you mind grabbing the first aid kit for me?”

“First aid kit, or _first aid kit?”_

“I don’t need a healing potion, just a bandage and maybe some Bactine. I swear, the only time you didn't freak out when I get a cut is the one time _your familiar_ scratched me.”

“R-right,” he said. “Did he or I ever apologize for that?”

“Archie did, and I told him it was no big deal.” Nimue had forgiven him already, she had accidentally set down a box of records on his tail. That being said, she thought Douxie was a bit too overprotective of the cat considering just _who_ he started fussing over when he saw the bloody claws.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Douxie asked, placing the first aid kit next to her.

“Yeah, I will. Want me to save some pumpkin for Archie?”

“Yes, please, he’ll like that.”

“Cool, I’ll separate it. Don’t kill any customers.”

“And you as well, Lady Nimue.”

She rolled her eyes before hissing as the Bactine touched her skin. Douxie was kind of weird, but he was her closest friend these days.

She put the bandage on her skin, put the first aid kit away, and then went back to carving pumpkins, as slimy as they were.


	3. On Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because really, what are the odds that someone's reincarnation would have the same name as their previous lifetime?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not trans, but the main character of this chapter is so please tell me if I did anything wrong in my portrayal.

“Nimue, what are you putting into that brew?” Archie asked.

Nimue paused, used to being snuck up upon by a talking cat. “Eye of newt?”

“Do your parents know how to take care you in the aftermath of your botched invisibility potion because you mistook _which_ amphibian’s eyes you’re supposed to be putting in there?”

She turned off the fire under her cauldron. “My parents don’t know I have magic.”

“They don’t? I’m sorry, I had assumed that since they named you after the Lady of the Lake you were from a line of wizards. I know I’d name my kitten Mordred if I ever have one.”

“Didn’t he kill his dad?”

There was a crash, and then a pained cry. Nimue and Archie looked away from her now-cooling attempt at an invisibility potion. Douxie had dropped a box on his foot. It must have been heavy, given the tears in his eyes.

“You know where the healing potions are, correct?” Archie asked. “Do you need help walking?”

“I’m, I’m fine,” Douxie said, not quite looking at his familiar, which was _weird,_ even for him. “I don’t need a healing potion, and I can walk on my own.”

“Then go ice your foot,” Nimue said. “Considering that you didn’t cry when you accidentally splashed that acid on yourself in Chem last week, the fact that you’re crying now is, you know, a sign? That you should take five?”

“That was a weak acid and really diluted,” Douxie said as Archie gave the two of them a why-didn’t-you-tell-me-this glare. Douxie wiped his eyes and seemed surprised. He then walked off, limping.

“Okay, ignoring Douxie and the fact that if you had a son, you’d name him after a kid who murdered his dad in cold blood because apparently you have a death wish or something,” Nimue said, trying not to let herself get caught in a flashback to her first life. “My parents didn’t name me Nimue. Nah, they would’ve named ‘Emily’ or something equally popular for my birth year because they’re very much into cookie-cutters and white picket-fences. There were already two different Emily’s in my class, and I would’ve been the _third_ if I went with their naming style.”

Heck, in kindergarten there was a boy with her deadname and the same last initial, so she had gone by a nickname that in hindsight was slightly more feminine.

“So, yeah. My parents didn’t name me Nimue. I did,” she continued, “because the Lady of the Lake was a cool magical lady and yeah, I was twelve, but even _then_ I knew I was a cool magic lady. Then again, I probably should’ve thought harder because fire is _so_ much cooler.”

Then again, the Lady of the Lake was a blacksmith who forged semi-magical swords, so she had done _some_ stuff with fire. Nimue knew this because she had named herself after her own first lifetime. But _no,_ no one thought about the blacksmithing, everyone thought Nimue just liked water, which was honestly kind of lame in her opinion.

“Have you considered telling your parents?” Archie asked. “If you let me use your phone’s text-to-speech app I could try writing a primer for them, including ways of dealing with commonly botched potions.”

“You write one for Douxie’s parents?”

“No.”

“Yeah, no thanks, I’ll pass.”

It wasn’t like any of the magical secrets of Arcadia Oaks would be revealed anytime soon, anyways.


	4. (In)Dependent Study

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...technically they're high school students and yet they hold at least three jobs between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was born out of my realization that Detective Scott didn’t call out Nimue for ditching class, even though Aja and Krel had to go to school.

Nimue found Douxie at their usual meet-up spot, pulling at his hair and grimacing at a spreadsheet. She placed her backpack next to him and sat down.

“You...” No, he wasn’t okay, stupid question. “What’s that?”

“Trying to figure out how to pay both my water bill and my rent this month.”

“Oh. Want me to try and enchant your pipes?”

“Uh... are you _sure_ that’s a good idea? I mean, if we can trick my pipes into giving me more water without any extra charge that’d be great, but I also don’t want them exploding or suddenly churning out weird potions when I’m trying to take a shower.”

“It’ll be fine, I have a way with water and enchanting metal.”

“Uh-huh. And yet you’re always complaining about how water magic is boring and how much you wish you could more easily control fire.”

“Because fire is better.” Nimue lowered her voice, nevermind that they had been discussing magic in front of their classmates. “Also, if your landlord kicks you out, you can probably come live with my parents and I.”

“Isn’t your mom allergic to cats? I don’t want to make Archie stay outside again, he already had to go through that when I was in foster care and he got _hurt_.”

“I mean, he’d probably okay if he stayed on the porch? I doubt whatever’s responsible for the death of outdoor cats would get _that_ close to a house.”

“Okay... by the way, have you tried enchanting your _own_ pipes?”

“Have you talked to the counselors about finances?” Nimue asked instead. “They might be able to help you out, at least involving homework and shit.”

“No, well, I _tried_ to talk to Mrs. Barros this morning, but she could only see one of us before class, and a freshman who looked like the only thing keeping her from a mental breakdown was the multitude of hair clips she was wearing needed it more.”

“I _knew_ that stupid new ‘graduate in a year-and-a-half’ plan was going to fail. Try talking to her after school. Barros, that is.”

“Yeah, I’ll try. I need to get the independent study form turned in anyway, so I can work at the ‘magic’ shop below my apartment.”

Nimue felt the blood drain from her face. “When’s the deadline for the independent study form?”

“Not for another two weeks, though Archie’s been on my case about getting it turned in _and_ on my case about spreading myself too thin.”

“Okay, good, I just was wondering how long I have to convince my parents to let me do it.”

“What, are you going to be doing something fancy and competitive, like how Linette’s going to be doing ballet?”

“No, work.”

Douxie opened his mouth, paused, and then stopped on a confused expression. He was probably trying to figure out why she’d offer to crash at her place if she was planning on getting emancipated or if her family had suddenly gotten financial trouble.

“Health insurance won’t pay for t-blockers.” Douxie nodded in understanding.

“Where are you planning on working?”

“Eh, there’s that record shop Zimue.”

“Are you _trying_ to go with the rhyming name gimmick? To what, get more customers or something?” Nimue shrugged. “Because if you’re planning on working so close to where I live anyways, we could work together.”

Nimue shrugged again. Douxie narrowed his brows.

“I’m even more reluctant to let you touch my pipes now, you know that, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you’re wondering, that freshman is Claire. Douxie and Nimue are about a year older than her. Douxie is also an emancipated minor. Linette isn’t important, but she is based on my godsister, who did independent study in high school to pursue ballet. They didn’t have a program like that at my high school, so I’m having Arcadia Oaks Academy feature odd pilot programs instead.


	5. Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordred tries to come clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...is now a good time to mention that these chapters are not in chronological order? Because welcome to medieval angst! And also explanations.

Lying was _bad._ Mordred, _no,_ he was going by _Douxie_ now, (because the knights were right and he was a deuce, a curse) knew that lying was bad. And yet he was doing it, because he was scared, and he was ashamed. He had let his aunt manipulate him, and he had done dark magic, and he hadn’t even done the spell right, and now his father didn’t remember that he was anything other than a talking cat. He didn’t remember that he had a son called Mordred; he didn’t remember that he was the king. He didn’t even remember his name, and Douxie had called him Archie.

Douxie had thought that his father was just hurt, and adjusting to being a cat, and maybe so ashamed that he wouldn’t even acknowledge that Mordred was his son. But it had been almost two whole months, and maybe things could get better again if he told the truth.

At the very least, maybe the Gumm-Gumm army wouldn’t destroy the kingdom.

“Archie?” Douxie said as they hid behind a barn.

“Yes?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Douxie took a deep breath and looked away from his father, shame burning at the back of his head. “You weren’t always a cat, but Aunt Morgana wanted to kill you and she made _me_ do it because she possessed me and you’re _really _King Arthur and my father and-”

Douxie looked back at his father and saw that there was a dark blue light over his father’s eyes. It matched the color of Douxie’s magic. His father blinked a few times, and the light disappeared. Archie looked up at him. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t hear what you were saying.”

Douxie swallowed. “Nevermind, it’s not important.”

“Are you sure? You seem upset.”

“I... I’m just cold and tired.”

His father was not _allowed _to know the truth. That was the cost of Douxie giving him a second life as a cat.


	6. Myths and Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nimue and Douxie have a project for their English class, where they have to research a character from mythology. They themselves are on the list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I have other chapters of this I'm working on but this idea was funny to me.

“So, who’re you doing for Mr. Mejía’s project? Wait, no, let me guess, thou art doing Nimue, aren’t thee, Lady Nimue?” Douxie had a cheeky smirk on his face, because even though he had English the period after her he probably knew that _everyone else_ in her class had asked her the exact same question. They just hadn’t made the switch into an older dialect of the language. That didn’t make the question any less annoying than all the other times people knew enough about history (or legends, as they thought) to ask if Nimue was doing a report on herself (or namesake, like they thought) for their English project to compare and contrast different retellings of stories from mythology.

“Remind me why I hang out with you?” Nimue asked as she pulled her lunch out of her backpack.

“Because I’m the only other wizard at school that we know of.” Well, that was certainly true. In their two years at Arcadia Oaks Academy, nothing had happened to alert them to the idea that their town housed anyone else with magic other than the two of them and Archie.

“No, I’m doing Loki for the project,” Nimue said. He was an interesting deity, and Nimue doubted she’d have to separate her research from her flashbacks. It would be frustrating to separate truth from things she could prove. Nimue glanced at her friend’s phone and the Wikipedia article open on it. It was one of the articles she had researched when she first realized she was the Lady of the Lake. “Are you doing Mordred for the project?”

Douxie shoved his phone in his pocket with a suspicious speed. “Uh, I’ll probably do one of the Argonauts, why do you ask?”

“You were researching Mordred.” Nimue focused on unzipping her lunch pail.

“Wikipedia was different than how I remembered it.” Nimue looked up, eyes wide.

“Uh…” Douxie scratched at the back of his head. His voice was strangely small. “I read a book on, on the Knights of the Round Table when I was a kid. I, Mordred was _nine._ In the book, that is.”

“Huh, I think I remember reading something like that, once,” Nimue said. No, she didn’t. She was surprised there was a book that told the _truth;_ Douxie looked a little surprised that she had read it so it must’ve been a rare book. “Honestly, I think that’s _more_ horrifying than everything on Wikipedia. Like, a bloodthirsty, power-hungry adult killing his dad is one thing, but _a little kid?_ That’s just plain wrong.”

Douxie narrowed his eyes. “We must have read different books, because I’m pretty sure he was _possessed_ when he killed his father and wouldn’t have done it if he were the one in control of his body. Anyways, how did you do on the math test?”

Nimue decided to drop the subject. “I don’t want to talk about it; how did _you_ do on the math test?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, Nimue's flashbacks serve as an unreliable narrator, because she can't remember everything. That being said, Douxie's also unreliable because he was a little kid when everything happened. Archie would be the most reliable source of information if it weren't for the block on his memories.


	7. Tabard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is the cat in a onesie?” “Uh, no?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for akozuheiwa, from a tumblr prompt. Sorry for the angst, I guess?

“Is the cat in a onesie?” Nimue asked. It was the winter of their freshman year, and she had gone to Douxie’s apartment after school so they could study for their math final together. His familiar was sleeping in what was either a DIY cat bed or Douxie’s laundry basket. His glasses were right next to him, and he wore a belted blue outfit.

“Uh, no?” Douxie said as he locked the door behind him. “It’s a tabard.”

He put one hand to his cheek and the other on top of Archie’s head, like he was trying to check the cat’s temperature.

Nimue looked more closely at the garment Archie was wearing.

“If anything, it’s a tunic. Also, doesn’t that method of taking temperature only work on, you know, people without fur?”

Douxie shoved his hands in his pockets. “It looks more like a tabard. Plus, tunics are shorter. Usually. I think.”

“What happened?”

“It’s been raining.” Douxie’s voice was strained. “I, I think he caught a cold, or something.”

“You’re really worried about him.”

“Of course, he’s... he’s the closest I’ve had to a stable family in... in a long time. And, he hasn’t gotten sick like this before. Can we go study?”

“Sure. But, to be honest, I think he’d be warmer in an actual onesie since it’ll cover his legs, unlike the tunic or tabard or, is that actually a kitchen towel you’ve cut up?”

“You tell him that, if, no, when he wakes up.”

“He’ll be fine, though we might need to give him a healing potion worst comes to worst. I hope it works on cats. Meanwhile, we _won’t_ be fine if Mrs. Owens puts long division of polynomials on the test.”


	8. Fever Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And somewhere, Arthur still exists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A new point of view? Present tense?
> 
> This chapter more-or-less directly correlates with the first and seventh chapters.
> 
> Also, I’m continuing to bastardize the Arthurian mythos by having Arthur, Guinevere, and Lancelot be in a consensual polyamorous relationship; Mordred is biologically the son of Arthur and Guinevere but sees all three of them as his parents.

_Arthur wakes up in a tent. Two makeshift chairs are at his bedside, with Lance impatiently tapping his foot on the right and Guinevere dosing slightly on the left. Lance catches Arthur’s gaze, gives him a relieved smile, and begins nudging Guinevere awake._

_Arthur can’t help but think there is something impossible about all this. This shouldn’t be happening, but why shouldn’t it be happening? Of course Lance and Guinevere would come with him to Camlann, why wouldn’t they?_

_“Oh, stop that will you,” Guinevere grumbles even as she opens her eyes. They settle on Arthur. “It’s good to see you awake.”_

_“It’s been eleven hours,” Lance says. As wonderful as he is, Lance has never truly been all that patient, and Arthur looks to Guinevere to see if this is at all an exaggeration. Arthur realizes their son is seated on her lap. His eyes are closed, and his arms are wrapped around himself.  
_

_Arthur can’t help but think that it’s hard to believe that Mordred was so small, once. But why? His posture is oddly stiff for a sleeping child, all unlike how he usually sleeps._

_“Father’s awake,” Guinevere says as she begins to nudge Mordred. Lance rolls his eyes in a good-natured way at her hypocrisy.  
_

_“I haven’t been asleep,” Mordred says. His voice is well-enunciated which means he must have been awake. He squeezes his eyes tightly.  
_

_Arthur feels ashamed for how he is relieved that it is Mordred’s voice coming from his body, and not Morgana._

_Arthur tries to sit up, and Lance quickly goes to prop him up._

_“Mordred, are you alright?” Arthur asks. He puts his hand over his son’s.  
_

_“You should hate me,” Mordred says.  
_

_“Oh, Mordred,” Arthur says. “What your aunt did to you, it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”  
_

_“You’re wrong.” Mordred’s voice is too deep for a nine year old boy; his eyes snap open. They are not the same gold as Arthur’s. They are dark blue, and glowing, and the whites of them are black. Mordred sits up straight, and everything - the tent, the chairs, the bed, even Lance and Guinevere - all of it turns into smoke. Arthur’s breath catches in his throat.  
_

_His son continues to stare at him, guilt and frustration in his posture. Arthur’s head burns; he doesn’t know how to help his son._

_His son is nine. His son is fourteen._

_His son is Mordred. His son is Douxie._

* * *

“You’re wrong,” Douxie said. Archie opened his eyes and raised his head, ever so slightly.

“And just _how_ am I wrong?” Nimue’s asked. Or at least, Archie was pretty sure it was Nimue. He didn’t have the strength to levitate his glasses to his face. However, her pink hair was quite distinctive.

“Uh, the answer in the back of the textbook is different?” Honestly, Archie was just happy that his... _his..._ that his charge finally had someone else who truly cared about him.

“Mrs. Owens is gonna fail both of us,” Nimue complained. Archie laid his head down, trying to go back to sleep and the dreams he could never remember.


	9. 5 + 1 Tropes to Avoid While Torrenting Movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The genre of this chapter is best descried as "crack". Also, there is an alternative format on FFN.

## Nimue’s List of Tropes to Avoid when Torrenting a Movie With Douxie in Order to Avoid Douxie Getting all Mopey:

  1. Movies where the parent gets turned into an animal, talking or otherwise. Okay, this one confuses me because, like, the closest thing he has to a family is a talking cat.
  2. Movies where the dad dies.  

  3. Movies where the kid kills the parent.
  4. Movies where the parent gets amnesia of the kid’s _entire existence._  

  5. Movies where the parent gets hurt and it is implied to be the son’s fault. I am sensing a pattern and I am _tempted_ to ask but _oh no_ I will _never_ get a straight answer out of Douxie about his life before foster care (because no, Douxie, saying, “Don’t worry, foster care was the _least_ of my tragic backstory” in a somewhat sarcastic tone _is not_ a straight answer and that joke was barely funny the first time you told it) and it’s not like Archie will be any help either.

## Douxie’s List of Tropes to Avoid when Torrenting a Movie With Nimue in Order to Avoid Nimue Loudly Cursing at the Screen:

  1. Historically incorrect blacksmithing techniques. What the _hell_ Nimue, how do you know all this stuff about blacksmithing? And why do you care so much? Why do you get so mad when they don’t forge a sword correctly? Rule of cool is a _thing,_ Nimue. Besides, this isn’t using real magic to explain to forge a sword. Also, I will never tell you this but until I was nine-ish I fucking _lived_ during a time where blacksmiths were a more common profession than the century you have lived your entire life in, _Nimue, and you don’t see me complaining about all the anarchisms of stories supposedly set in the mid-sixth century! One of my grandmothers (whom, I will be honest about, I didn’t see much) was a blacksmith! And she lived in a fucking LAKE so CLEARLY even historically accurate blacksmithing isn’t always “accurate”! Why do you care so much about historically accurate blacksmithing, NIMUE?_


	10. Outburst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After running into a Morgana-possessed Claire, Douxie has to endure a lecture from his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are officially in canon territory (timeline-wise, anyways)! This chapter takes place in the aftermath of the events of “The Exorcism of Claire Nuñez”.
> 
> This was written for the prompt “Zip me with Douxie?” in which **zip me** meant that I would write a fic about one character dressing another, or the other way around... or alternatively, I could write about one character shutting another up. Three guesses as to how I decided to deal with that prompt.

“You know, I had honestly expected _Nimue_ to be the one with the worse reaction to all of this,” Archie said. He had been lecturing Douxie on pretty much their _entire _walk back to the apartment. “After all, _Nimue_ had been less sympathetic to the idea that that poor girl had been possessed against her will. And do you know what? _Nimue_ was entirely _professional._”

_Well Nimue didn’t recognize the danger,_ Douxie wanted to say, but then he’d have to talk about Aunt Morgana and that would be futile.

“There wasn’t a single mention of sending a fireball or a potion-turned-Molotov-cocktail at our possession victim,” his father continued.

“I _get_ it, you think Nimue’s better than I am,” Douxie said.

“Well in _this particular case,_ Nimue was _entirely_ better than you. Really, what were you _thinking?”_

That once Aunt Morgana was done with whatever dark deed she had originally possessed Claire for, she would kill Douxie and _everyone_ he loved.

“Shouldn’t you _know better_ than to run around with a knife like that? I’m sure I taught you _not to_ do that,” his father said. Actually, Arthur as well as Merlin and other instructors had tried to teach Mordred how to move swiftly with a bladed weapon.

“That was _reckless_ of you. You could’ve stabbed yourself, or maybe have gotten arrested, and with the way you were _glowing _you would’ve exposed your abilities to the general populace. Oh, and _speaking of which,_ letting off magic like that is _dangerous._ You would’ve depleted your reservoir, and if there had been a threat -”

“I am _so glad_ you’re acknowledging that there was a threat,” Douxie interrupted as they began to climb the stairs to their apartment. “Which is why I had the knife.”

“Do not interrupt me,” Archie hissed as Douxie opened the door. “If there had been a _credible_ threat, you would’ve been in danger, and a knife wouldn’t be enough defense. Or _worse,_ you would’ve turned to dark magic. We’re already going to have to keep an eye on that girl, to make sure she doesn’t use any more dark magic and doesn’t become a threat, whether through a second possession or on her own. But at least we can hope that that girl is an untrained novice. _You?_ You have no excuse. You were _already_ using subconscious magic based purely on your own fears, and you _know better._ You _know _that you need to keep your emotions in check when using magic and vice versa. You _know_ that not doing so is _dangerous,_ both to yourself and _everyone_ around you_.”_

“I get it, _Father!”_ Douxie yelled.

His father’s eyes were covered by dark blue light.

Douxie clasped a hand over his mouth and ran to his room. He shut the door behind him and sat down with his back against it.

What was wrong with him? Nevermind that he was being childish in his reaction; he had _never_ taken advantage of the spell blocking out his father’s memory before.

Douxie stared at his hand, flexing and clenching it, daring his fingers to explode into violent black cracks.

He probably should have waited to form the knife. He should have waited, because there was a chance that Aunt Morgana didn’t recognize him, not now that he was nearly an adult and it had been close to a millennium and a half since she had seen him last. He would have had the element of surprise on his side. He shouldn’t have formed the knife at all, not with the way it was a spell that Aunt Morgana had used. He still didn’t know how to change it back, so he was down a pencil.

The anger and adrenaline from hearing Aunt Morgana’s voice were finally starting to wear off, leaving him numb but no less scared.

Maybe it would be better if Douxie went away. Not do anything drastic, but his father and Nimue had this handled. They didn’t need him. Besides, he had used dark magic before. They would _hate _him, even though he had used dark magic with good intentions. Even though he had been young. Even though he had been possessed.

Though, Nimue’s mom was allergic to cats. Douxie was still needed for at least one reason.

His father and Nimue were just concerned; they didn’t hate him yet.

He shouldn’t have yelled at his father.

He should go apologize.

Douxie hugged his knees to his chest as tears began to silently roll down his cheeks.

What was wrong with him?

What was _wrong_ with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t wait for _Wizards_ to show Douxie’s reaction to Clairegana... or more specifically, to see just how much dealing with Clairegana will mess our poor emo boy up.


	11. Queste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the fate of Mordred's other two parents is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter exists to fulfill anyone’s questions as to why Guinevere and Lancelot weren’t at Camlann (or for that matter, why Mordred didn’t plan on trying to find his other two parents after Camlann).
> 
> Chapter is prior to the Battle of Camlann! And the chapter title comes from the part of the Vulgate cycle that describes the events of this chapter best.

For once, it was a peaceful day in Camelot. Arthur sat in his throne room, going over reports. He grimaced. The Gumm-Gumms seemed to be getting stronger, almost as if...

Arthur shut his eyes. No, she was his sister. And even if she weren’t, Morgana was still human. No amount of pride or lust for power would make Morgana suicidal enough to through in her lot with the Gumm-Gumms.

The door opened, and Arthur quickly readjusted his posture. Some days he still felt like as much of an impostor as he did at fifteen, having become king without proper training. All he had done was pull a sword out of a rock, not even realizing the implications at the time. He was incredibly thankful for Lance and Guinevere; they had helped him so much. Unfortunately, they were away, lending aid to a portion of the kingdom that had been ravaged by Gumm-Gumms.

“Sire,” a page said, panting for breath and holding out a letter. Arthur took the letter; it was from Sir Percival.

That was slightly odd. Percival was with Lance and Guinevere, and while he was the highest ranking knight after the two of them, Arthur usually received letters from his spouses.

Arthur read the letter. He reread it multiple times, trying to find the sign that this was a poorly-timed joke, or the sign that this wasn’t Percival’s handwriting, or the sign that this was a ruse and Percival’s letter was actually a warning, worded this way so that none of their enemies could intercept.

There was no such sign. Arthur blinked away the tears in his eyes, and then stood up.

Arthur began to walk towards Mordred’s room. Mordred _should_ have been in his room studying. Arthur tried to rehearse a way to tell his son the tragic news.

About a week after Mordred had been born, Arthur had been scared that his son had stopped breathing, only for Mordred to suddenly raise an arm. Arthur had chosen to ignore the prophecy surrounding Mordred, but he had then realized that it was entirely possible for Mordred to kill him by giving Arthur a heart attack.

Like Mordred seemed to be doing now, by climbing out the window in his third story bedroom. Mordred looked behind himself, and started to slip.

Arthur flung his hand out, and silver light encircled Mordred, preventing him from falling.

“Mordred, get down from there,” Arthur said, trying to hid the strain to his voice. Perhaps Merlin had been right, that even though Arthur hadn’t even inherited a fraction of the magic that Morgana possessed he should practice his telekinesis more often.

“I would’ve been _fine,”_ Mordred complained as he climbed down. He caught Arthur’s gaze, and then looked away. “I mean, probably.”

“Mordred, _why?”_

“There was a _squirrel _in the tree outside the window. It was so _fluffy.”_ Mordred glanced at the letter in Arthur’s hand. “What’s that? Is it a letter from Mother and Da? Are they coming home soon?”

Arthur took a deep breath and a step towards his son. “Actually, there was an attack on the area where your mother and da are. A band of Gumm-Gumms had a Nyalagroth with them”

“Oh, so they fought it off?”

Arthur swallowed. “Mordred, they loved you very much.”

Mordred shrugged. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“The Gumm-Gumms and the Nyalagroth killed Mother and Da.” Guinevere had died quickly; Lance had died from his wounds about an hour after the battle had ended. According to Percival, a human sorceress who wielded golden magic had been aiding the Gumm-Gumms. No one could be entirely sure, but all the signs pointed towards Morgana.

“No.” Mordred shook his head, squeezing his eyes tight. “No, that can’t be true!”

Motes of dark blue light began to peel off of Mordred’s body, and Arthur rushed forward to embrace his son, to calm him down before Mordred could accidentally turn to dark magic in his grief, but even more so to comfort him.

Arthur wasn’t how long he held Mordred, crying, but eventually he pulled away and dried the tears on Mordred’s cheeks.

“Mordred, you need to stay away from Aunt Morgana.”

“Why?”

“It’s for your safety.”

Little to Arthur’s knowledge, less than seven months later Mordred would accept a necklace that would allow Morgana to take over Mordred’s body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a fun fact, Guinevere dies before Lancelot in the original myths, but it’s in a nunnery due to natural causes. Lancelot also died of natural causes, but lived long enough to bury Guinevere. Morgana was also partially responsible for Lancelot and Guinevere’s downfall, having helped to expose them as lovers.


	12. Evening Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You need sleep"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for happi-tree on tumblr. Also, I know her official name is Zoe but she'll remain Nimue here.

“Nimue, go home, it’s getting late,” Douxie said, looking out the window of his apartment.

“I need to figure out this spell,” she mumbled. “And it’s not like I can do experimental spells at home. Or really much magic at all.”

“You need sleep.”

In response, Nimue drained the last of the bottled coffee she had bought on the way to Douxie’s apartment. It wasn’t much, but it was retaliation.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Douxie said. “Also, you haven’t told your parents?”

“No.”

“I’ve met your parents, I’m sure they’d understand. Just, like, show them a simple spell like, oh, pour them a glass of water.”

“No, just. No.” Besides, if she used water-based magic while trying to tell her parents that she was a wizard, she’d probably panic and tell them about her flashbacks to her previous lives in the process. Nimue doubted that _that_ would go over well.

“Okay, come up with something else then, to ease them into it. But seriously, you’re good at manipulating water with magic, so if you’re nervous about telling them _and_ nervous about messing the spell you may as well do something you’re good at?”

Nimue narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth.

She closed her mouth. Sure, she could tell Douxie that since he didn’t know what she was going through, he could back the fuck off. She could remind him that he didn’t know what it was like to be constantly lying to the people that raised you. She could snap at him and tell him that since he didn’t _have_ parents, he couldn’t tell Nimue how to tell _her_ parents.

But she didn’t know how to say any of that tactfully, and she wanted to keep their friendship, as annoying as Douxie could be sometimes.

_“Fine.” _Nimue stood up. “I’ll go home and get some sleep.”

“If you can get any with all the coffee you’ve drank,” Douxie grumbled in a way that Nimue wasn’t sure if she was meant to hear. Then, more loudly, “Do you need me to walk you home?”

“I’ll be fine.”


	13. Over a Week into the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New to the twenty-first century, Douxie thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akozuheiwa requested the line "Do you regret it" with Archie and Douxie over on tumblr, so here is the result of that.
> 
> This takes place about six or seven years before Jim finds the amulet.

In the early evening, Douxie sat on the steps of the back porch of the house of his, well, the guardian figures that the government of the state known as California deemed to take care of him. And Douxie understood this. He could’ve taken care of himself before, mostly, but in this strange new land that Merlin’s crystal had sent him and his father to, Douxie didn’t know how to cope. The air smelled like poison and was hard to breathe. Everything was so _loud,_ and even though it was the middle of fall everything was so _hot _and _sticky _and not at all like the cooler climate Douxie had grown up in.

But even though they were fostering him, even thought their family name had been foisted upon him, Douxie would _never_ call Fred and Josefina Meritt his parents. His parents were and always would be Mother, Da, and Father, even though his father didn’t remember him and his mother and his da were dead. And _no one_ could change that.

Douxie bit his lip. It felt like they had only been dead for a little less than a year, and yet it had been one thousand, four hundred seventy-three years.

His father climbed onto the step and looked up at him.

“How was school?” his father asked.

“The same.” Douxie had been well educated back before Camlann, but didn’t understand practically anything the teacher was talking about. Also, a couple of his classmates though his eyes looked creepy. Some small part of Douxie wanted to use dark magic and show them _truly_ creepy eyes, but he was having a hard time using magic at all. He wasn’t sure if this city of Los Angeles was messing up his magic, or if he had merely overly exhausted himself when using Merlin’s crystal, but the lack of it was frustrating.

He supposed that it made sense, for Merlin to do something to make Mordred unable to use his powers. Merlin was smart like that. He knew that Mordred was bad. Not so bad that it’d be better just to kill Mordred, but bad enough that Merlin wouldn’t want Mordred around. Merlin was wise, and so he’d be able to sense that Mordred was corrupted by dark magic.

Then again, Mordred had been corrupted by prophecy his whole life, so why did another source of corruption change things so much?

“Do you regret it?” Douxie asked his father, voice flat and hollow.

“Regret what?”

_Do you regret not unsheathing Excalibur when you fought Aunt Morgana while she was in my body? Do you regret not having sent me away, to go be the apprentice of some wizard who lived far away, where I couldn’t have hurt you? Do you regret not having drowned me as a baby?_

“Using the crystal to come to the future,” Douxie said instead, because his father wouldn’t be able to hear all the other potential regrets.

His father blinked. “All I want is for you to be safe and happy. If we had stayed in our time, I don’t think you would be either of those things. At least now, there’s a chance. So no, I don’t regret it.”

Douxie stared up at the unfamiliar starless sky, wordless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Meritts probably won’t ever show up; I just needed names to give to Douxie’s foster parents, and also a legal last name for Douxie since he isn’t using Pendragon.
> 
> Merlin actually wanted to seal Mordred in the NJ Heartstone, and then free him when Morgana was no longer a threat so Mordred could grow up in a safe environment. Douxie managed to mess that up because he wasn’t going to abandon his cat. When Merlin reaches the NJ Heartstone and finds it empty, then Jim, Claire, and Blinky will see a new side of him as he grieves Mordred. That being said, Merlin assumed that the dark magic Douxie had used was _only_ a result of the possession, not of any necromancy.


End file.
